With canes in their hands and anticipation on their faces, the participants made their way towards the Maryland retreat main lobby. They traveled from across the country to experience Shabbat with Jews just like themselves – who could neither see the light of the Shabbat candles nor hear the words of Kiddush.

Welcome to the third annual Jewish Deafblind Shabbaton.

From Friday, June 7- Sunday, June 9, seventeen deafblind Jews, ranging from ages 14 to 80, connected with each other and their heritage. The participants got to learn about and experience Judaism, virtually non-existent in their lives, in an environment that was 100 percent accessible to them.

“A deafblind person can be in a room with 500 people and unless someone communicates with him, he doesn’t know what is going on around them; he is totally isolated,” says Rabbi Eliezer Lederfeind, national director of Our Way/NJCD, an agency of the Orthodox Union that provides educational and social inclusion programs for the deaf and hard of hearing. “It was an opportunity for the Jewish deafblind to connect to people who understood them.”

Sigal Kuhl of Charleston, West Virginia, originally from Haifa, talks about the impact the experience had on her son, Liad, 14, the Deafblind Shabbaton’s youngest participant.

* * *

Last year, we had a bar mitzvah celebration for Liad and put it on YouTube. Rabbi Liederfeind saw it and contacted me. He told me about the Our Way program and the upcoming Shabbaton. Liad couldn’t wait to meet other Jewish deafblind people.

The doctors determined that Liad was deaf and blind when he was six-months-old, due to a virus I contracted 32 weeks into my pregnancy. His balance was also affected, so he can’t walk and has to use a wheelchair to get around. Liad loves to interact, but most people can’t communicate with him. It’s very isolating. I thought the Shabbaton would be a great opportunity for his two younger brothers as well. It’s important for them to see that their brother is important and to do everything possible to include him.

Liad signs with his SSP Hannah Patterson

We felt so welcomed; you could really feel how they cared about our coming. Each deafblind person had an SSP (the Support Services Providers are trained paraprofessionals who, along with interpreting, foster interaction between deafblind individuals and inform them of their surroundings.) They had to describe everything with their hands. It’s very tiring. But, they did it with such passion. There were even deaf and hard of hearing people helping those who were both deaf and blind. Here are people who have disabilities and they are able to provide a priceless service.

He constantly had someone interested in talking with him, joking with him, asking him about his life. I would hear him on the other side of the room laughing. He was super-happy and super-engaged all the time. He was celebrated for who he is.

The theme of the Shabbaton was Israel. Coming from a community where I’m the only Israeli, I really appreciated it. So did my children; it strengthened their identity to meet other people who love Israel. The organizers highlighted the country’s history and culture in so many ways and activities. They created a huge tactile map of Israel that took up several tables; you could feel the borders and the shapes of all the regions. There was a leader at each table. We got a “tour” of five cities that were indicated in large print and Braille, describing the location and personality of each place. Liad was able to feel Haifa, my hometown.

We also learned the details of what it is to live as a Jew: why we wash our hands before bread, and why we say the blessing, what makes something kosher. Friday, the whole family made a challah, shaping it and braiding it. Then we got to bring it to the Shabbat table. Liad loved it. He signed, “Wonderful! My challah!”

Liad (right, in wheelchair) dances with the men following Havdallah

It was sad to leave and go back to our daily struggles. When you have a child with disabilities, you feel very isolated; you can’t go many places; you cannot play sports like other kids. Instead of feeling always on the outside, Liad was at the heart of the group. He felt important; people wanted to communicate with him and be with him. He was so happy and comfortable. He was with his own element, his people.

Our comments section is intended for meaningful responses and debates in a civilized manner. We ask that you respect the fact that we are a religious Jewish website and avoid inappropriate language at all cost.

If you promote any foreign religions, gods or messiahs, lies about Israel, anti-Semitism, or advocate violence (except against terrorists), your permission to comment may be revoked.

One Response to ““I’m Deaf. I’m Blind. And I’m Jewish!”: Shabbat Shines for a Deafblind Boy”

Purim is a fantastic time for fantasies, so I hope you won’t mind my fantasizing about how easy life would be if kids would prefer healthy cuisine over sweets. Imagine waking up to the call of “Mommy, when will my oatmeal be ready?”… As you rush to ladle out the hot unsweetened cereal, you rub […]

One of the earliest special Purims we have on record was celebrated by the Jews of Granada and Shmuel HaNagid, the eleventh-century rav, poet, soldier and statesman, and one of the most influential Jews in Muslim Spain.

With canes in their hands and anticipation on their faces, the participants made their way towards the Maryland retreat main lobby. They traveled from across the country to experience Shabbat with Jews just like themselves – who could neither see the light of the Shabbat candles nor hear the words of Kiddush.